Gstaad

Gstaad The Swiss canton of Ticino is holding a referendum on a burka ban, and it is about time, too. Burka, niqab, it’s all Arabic to me, although I understand first hand how deep-seated the hatred of women is in Arab countries and that men wish to cover them up. Funnily enough, when you see these bearded assholes shouting on TV, it is the men who are so ugly it should be mandatory for them to cover up. When I lived in the Sudan and Egypt, a punishment from my father for running up debts — she was beautiful, a famous Hollywood actress, and very expensive, who taught me rather

Just before I left Gstaad for the Greek islands I went to dinner at Eugenie Radziwill’s, whose other guests included the great Barry Humphries and his wife Lizzie, and a couple I had never met before but whose name rang a distant bell, John Sutherland. The bell turned out not to be so distant, the prof having reviewed a book for the Speccie just that week. I was late as usual and when introduced to Susan Sutherland I made the gaffe of asking her whether the professor was her father or her husband. She was an English rose type, very pretty, and smilingly she said, ‘He is my husband’ —

In the latest Spectator Life, our very own Taki told us: ‘I learned long ago that the harder it is to arrive at one’s destination, the better the resort.’ Apparently ‘Gstaad is one of the few ultra-chic winter playgrounds where big jets cannot land.’ Always up for a challenge, I decided that Switzerland’s finest mountain spot needed checking out. Bloody Mary-spilling turbulence, various coach ‘malfunctions’ and sideways snow aside, our resident High Lifer was proven wrong; ten hours after leaving London I arrived outside, as Taki finely puts it: ‘The Palace — a large chocolate cake of a castle-hotel, favoured by mad King Ludwig of Bavaria.’ I was not alone; 200 of